


Duality

by TheOrangeAurora



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Horror, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Illness, Read at Your Own Risk, ish, not everything is in the tags to avoid spoilers, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:43:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: It was eerie in the prison, yet somehow Dan's smile could calm him down.





	Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Sudden inspiration struck so I had to write this. Turned out kinda halloween-y appropriate ahaha, hope you enjoy!

It was as dreary indoors as he had expected it to be, and the uniform was as uncomfortable as he was told. Despite that, Phil neatly tucked the white shirt into the black trousers, smoothing out the wrinkles accordingly before he reached out for the belt, and the issued baton, carefully winding the former around his waist and attaching the latter to it. The radio was next and his fingers fumbled clumsily until he finally attached it correctly. The tie was pitch black, and around his neck it made him think of a noose more than anything else ever had.

When he looked up in the mirror, he was a perfect grayscale, his skin matching the shirt, his hair - the tie. Only his eyes still shone brightly, differently, in the midst of it all, and he stared at his reflection for a little longer until the world around the reflection had become as bleak as his own image.

“Ready?” An older prison officer with a comically bushy moustache and a bit of a beer belly turned to him when Phil emerged from the changing room. 

“Yes, sir,” In a trained manner, Phil responded and his back straightened in an instant, too.

While Phil had been growing up, he had dreamed big and small, thinking he'd be a weatherman, or a writer, or even make movies for the BBC and move to Hollywood eventually. Sometimes he had dreamed about being an astronaut, but then he'd land back on Earth and want to work with animals.

He'd never thought that he would end up enrolling into a police academy only to go on to work as a prison guard. People were caged like animals for behaving against the law, some full of remorse, others - in constant glee for what had put them there. It was a dark place, full of emotions that made him jumpy on the inside still even if his face showed none of it, his expression trained to be neutral or even a little friendly, but always well guarded and hiding any vulnerabilities. 

“I'll show you around and after that you will be assigned to a post for the day. We rotate them throughout the month, but you might be stuck in one for a while.” The older officer, Officer Waletzki, as his nametag suggested, explained as the two men walked through several different locked doors, the chime of the of keys mixing in with their steps and the occasional noises made by the inmates. Phil's arms crossed behind his back, the young officer kept nodding whenever something was explained to him; there was the hallway to sectors C, E and break room, the bathrooms were across the hall that way, the lunch canteen for the inmates was behind and the schedules for when each inmate would eat was given at the beginning of each week though it rarely changed.

“You'll stay in Sector H-6 for now,” Finally the other man stopped and motioned Phil towards the said sector, “Remember, these are all dangerous criminals. Keep your guard up. Don't engage unnecessarily. You are in charge and they must follow the rules.”

Though Phil nodded, once the older officer disappeared around the corner, he made a face.

===

“Are you sure, honey?” His mum placed a hand on his shoulder as Phil was filling out the paper form that he had fought the printer for almost an hour over, when the old thing kept getting paper jams.

“It's just a temporary placement,” He looked up and regarded her with a smile, “And I'm sure it will be alright. They're all locked away and it's the most secure prison in the area.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes, but then again he was used to it. She had been patting him on the head and smiling when he announced that he wanted to be a policeman. She had kissed his cheeks happily, embarrassing him, when he graduated. She had been speaking words of pride when he finally received the official documents.

Her eyes always betrayed her though. The worry lurked behind them, say where did the little boy with dreams much brighter and happier go? She knew that he wanted to do good, but there was always something that seemed to hold her back from believing that this was what Phil really wanted to do.

===

“Would you look at that, they got somebody new,” Phil felt his expression flatten when he heard the words and he looked over at the prisoner who was lounging lazily on his bed, eying Phil up and down like he was a piece of meat. It sent a shiver down Phil's back, but he just glared at the inmate and continued walking onwards, slowly. 

It wasn't as dark as he had always thought it would be, the cell walls light and the daylight lamps actually implemented. The cells were more spacious, too, than some of those that Phil had learned about and the beds didn't look quite as bad as they could. 

The inmates, too, were quite the variety. 

He noted some men older than his own father, either reading or sleeping. There were guys a little older or about Phil's age, some really neat and others that looked like they had been dragged out from the middle of the forest and thrown behind the bars. There was a face here and there that seemed younger, too, most seeming quite restless, either exercising or pacing around the cell like a caged animal. There was even one that was furiously mumbling under his breath only to stop and stare when Phil was passing by. 

It was eerie.

As he continued on, nobody really talked to him. That is, until he reached a cell set a little further than the rest, and there was something about the bars that made them look sturdier than others. Only when Phil eyed the number next to the door did he understood that he'd ventured into a higher level security, where more vicious men were locked away. 

“Hello there, new face,” He was greeted with an almost awkwardly joyous greeting and he looked over to where the sound came from. There, in the corner on the floor next to the bars sat a tall man, his long legs crossed, and a book on his lap. His hair was curly, his eyes were soft brown, his face was dotted with stray freckles and his skin though pale looked like it held a warm quality about it. “I was wondering when I could get something new to read,” The inmate continued on and the awkward edge disappeared from his voice momentarily only to return more prominently when he laughed and scratched the back of his head, “As much as I love this, I think I'll soon know how to cite the book word by word.”

Phil hadn't even realised when he had stopped, just staring at the inmate who was offering him a smile wide enough to show dimples. 

For all Phil understood, this man didn't look like a criminal at all, there was no edge that wasn't soft about him, and perhaps it was that what made Phil feel so much more cautious about him. This man was listed as dangerous, if the location of the cell and the number said anything, and Phil could already envision him luring people in with his looks, only to perform an atrocious crime that nobody could expect of him.

Even so, Phil allowed his eyes to wander down to look at the book in the inmate's lap, “Library will be available on Thursday,” He announced bluntly, pulling his eyes away, his fingers tempted to grab at the baton just to remind himself of the safety, but Phil stopped himself; rule number one was to never show if you were in any way scared.

“Oh! Really? Can I get some good fantasy? Maybe science fiction? I'm so tired of these reality novels. They're all the same,” The inmate spoke in a manner so genuine that it took Phil by surprise, only to make him tense when he realised that the inmate was pushing himself up on his feet and fully turning to face Phil, the book hugged tightly against his chest like the man was some highschooler. 

“You look like you would know some good books. Please,” He saw the inmate looking down at the name tag briefly before he looked Phil straight in the eyes, “Officer Lester, bring me something interesting before I feel like banging my head against the wall over these sappy romances,” There was a light laugh that escaped the inmate's mouth again and the sound poured into Phil's chest warmly. He didn't even realise that he was smiling a bit until he nodded.

“I'll see what I can do. Nobody should be stuck with only a single, boring book choice.”

There was almost childlike excitement in the inmate's eyes and Phil shifted, vaguely motioning with his hand that he had to go and wordlessly he began walking away. He felt a little dazed after the brief exchange, and he could feel the inmate still watching him until he was too far from the cell.

===

“There's some sandwiches, new guy,” A tall, even taller than Phil, officer waved at the table across the break room as soon as Phil entered, “Beverly's wife makes them for all of us once every other week, so it's your lucky day.”

Phil regarded the other officer with a smile, watching the man bite hungrily into the sandwich before returning to his conversation with another guy. 

As he was nibbling on one of his own, he looked around at the few men present; there was joyful chatter around, the most alive place in the prison so far and it was an oddity after the darkness filled morning. Of course, there was the book inmate, who had spoken to Phil like he was a person, but he didn't dare to trust him.

“How's it going, new guy?” The same tall man suddenly plopped in the seat next to Phil and he nearly choked on a bit of a bread. The other guy watched him with amusement as Phil coughed, clapping on Phil's back lightly a couple of times until Phil stopped coughing. “Would be quite a lousy way to go. A job accident by choking on your own lunch,” The officer, Wakefield apparently, laughed and Phil joined in with a light laugh.

“I have a good survival track record. A whole twenty-nine years.” 

Wakefield laughed even more at that, louder and more joyous than it seemed possible in a place like the prison and Phil used the moment to take another bite of his food, careful to chew through it well before he responded to anything. 

“So how's it? Any trouble with the inmates yet?” There was a stone cold quality about the other man's eyes though his face seemed like it was nearly splitting with a wide smile.

Phil shook his head, “Just some of them running their mouths a bit, nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, and one was curious about the library day,” Phil lowered his sandwich just as Wakefield picked up his.

“Ah, I think I know who that is,” Wakefield said thoughtfully before biting into his sandwich and continuing on with his mouth full, the words unexpectedly clear and Phil could only wonder if the other man had purposely learned how to hold lengthy speeches while dining. “Howell keeps going through books like crazy. Had to bring him a whole stack during my first month here.”

Phil, never expecting to have more than just a number for the inmates, cocked his head a little, curious when Wakefield continued with his sandwich.

“What is he in for anyways? He's up in the higher sector,” Phil continued on with his lunch, eying the other man and there was a certain tension that seemed to take over Wakefield, his face hardening instantly and the atmosphere suddenly made it really hard for Phil to chew.

“I have to go back to my post. Lunch is starting soon. You better go back to yours soon too, new guy,” The way the other man spoke turned Phil's blood to ice and when he tried to swallow, the bread seemed to get stuck in his throat. Wakefield left, and there was an ominous presence that made the air thick.

It killed Phil's appetite. 

===

“I could make some much needed changes to your face,” The voice was a growling one, mixing laughter and seething hatred, “Just come a little closer, you dirty piece of shit.” It was a gross sound when the man retched and spat at Phil, missing completely, but it was clearly a step out of the line.

“Get away from the door inmate, immediately,” He brought up the baton, threateningly and the inmate stepped back. Slowly, slowly, the man sat down on the bed, all whilst staring at Phil with the purest hatred Phil had ever experienced. “It will go on your inner record,” Phil added just before the man flipped him off. 

Nothing that he wouldn't expect.

“I'm hungry, when's the lunch?” Someone called at him and he looked around until he could see the inmate.

“The usual time. You can wait.” His voice was strict but his heart was beating rapidly. He hated mistreating people, even if they were mistreating him. He'd gone into police academy to learn how to help, serve and protect people. He'd known what he signed up for when he applied for prison guard position, but it was then that he was reminded of the ugly parts of his intended job.

He had always grown up being polite, taught to be so, and now he had to forget it all.

“Officer Lester! How is your first day going?” A much more pleasant voice reached out to him when Phil passed through the passage between the two security levels. When he looked up, Howell was smiling brightly at him from the same spot he had been sitting at earlier, the book on his lap now flipped open somewhere in the middle.

“Good, thank you,” He tried to be curt, remembering Wakefield's expression. He tried to keep walking onwards but it was difficult when curiosity was stronger than reason at times. It was so hard to believe that this man could truly do something that would make men like Wakefield so cold.

 _Never judge a book by its cover._ He reminded himself, but his feet stopped and he turned a little to face the inmate who closed the book after placing an old folded envelope into it to mark the page. 

“Today is casserole day, right?” The inmate took lead in supplying more conversation and Phil shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scratched the back of his neck and then shrugged.

“It should be. Yesterday was fish, and fish always comes before the casserole.” Howell hummed to himself merrily before stretching his arms and legs with a yawn, “I hope it's pork, we haven't had that for a while.”

That made Phil arch his brow and he found himself speaking before he could stop himself, “How long have you been here?”

To that, the inmate just leaned his head back against the wall, looking at some random point in the cell's ceiling, “Three years? I lost count after day four hundred twenty-eight.” What made it so much more eerie though, was the way that it sounded like the man didn't really care that he was in the prison. Like it was something that he had talked about so many times that the reality had lost its meaning to him and he was over trying to salvage it. 

“Aren't you in your early twenties now?” The frown had taken place on Phil's face; he couldn't feel sorry for the older ones that much anymore, they had had lives to live and learn, and had still ended up in the prison after all those experiences. Howell, however, looked too young to be locked away. The security level meant most likely a life imprisonment and it hurt Phil thinking that someone had thrown away all those years of wonder and exploration away so early on in their life.

“I'm almost twenty-five,” The inmate answered and plucked at the envelope that was sticking out of the book, “Mum sent a reminder just last week about it. I should have some visitors finally,” There was a pure happiness that showed in those deep brown eyes when Howell looked at Phil and for all he knew, Phil frowned even more. 

“I hope it's pork today, too,” He muttered under his breath and turned to go, but something told him that the inmate had heard him anyway, if the happy sound he made was anything to go by.

===

“Away from the door, Howell,” Phil instructed and watched as the inmate put away his book obediently and stood up against the wall, hands against it and legs at shoulder width even before he was instructed to do so. 

Phil unlocked the door and the officer assigned with him from a nearby sector, Horsfall, walked in and took the inmate's arms to cuff them around the wrists. For a moment, Phil expected the officer to also cuff the young inmate around the ankles too, but instead he grabbed him by the shoulder to lead him towards the exit.

The inmate, nearing Phil, offered him a wide, dimply smile and Phil's lips quivered, wanting to return it but instead he locked the cell door and followed the two people through the hallway towards the canteen. 

It was silent. Too silent.

As they walked through the hallway that Phil had been patrolling, all of the inmates were tucked away, sitting in their beds, watching the trio silently as they walked past the cells. Even when coming close to the rudest and loudest of them, Phil was only greeted with silence and blank stares and it made him uneasy. One glance at Howell, and he was calmed by that smile on his face and that hum in his throat that sounded awfully lot like a song Phil knew but couldn't quite place. 

“You know the drill,” Horsfall pushed Howell inside the canteen and the tall inmate tripped a little over his feet before he caught himself, and Phil could swear that there was a light blush on Howell's cheeks when he nodded at the two officers and walked across the canteen to queue with a tray in his bound hands.

“That was strange,” Phil murmured quietly to the other officer and when given a questioning look, he elaborated, “They're usually not this calm, the other inmates. Or is that just a thing in the mornings?”

Instead of an answer, he was regarded with a weird stare, like if what he'd said was something really bizarre. When he returned that with a question in his knit brows, the other officer excused himself and left the canteen to help with bringing in more of the inmates.

Howell was sitting at one of the empty tables alone, happily munching away what looked like a really bland casserole.

===

“You're going to die,” The whisper that followed Phil through the hallway had set his heart on a race. The first time he had heard it, he had hushed the inmate. The second time he had lightly hit the baton against the bars of the cell. As the whispers continued on, he tried to put it off as a cruel joke that the inmates were trying to pull on him, to try and scare him away. Perhaps that's why the previous guard had resigned, tired of this choir of whispers, anger and darkness seeping through every corner of the building. 

Phil definitely couldn't see himself working here for too long, and he was already wishing to hear back about his applications elsewhere. He just needed the money while he waited, but now he hoped that the wait wouldn't be long.

He couldn't imagine how bad it could get if after less than a day it felt too heavy already.

And he couldn't shake the dread that was taking its residence in his joints when more and more officers left him without an answer when he actually got around to asking about Howell. Phil couldn't understand it; either there was a huge mistake or the man was a lot more dangerous than anyone wanted to admit, but no matter how hard Phil raked his brain he couldn't remember any big case around this strange young inmate. So he was left wondering.

“It was chicken again,” The voice was already too familiar to him, and it was openly disappointed when it spoke. As if charmed, his feet stopped and Phil looked through the bars where the inmate was lounging on the cell floor, arms behind his head as he stared at the light in the ceiling. 

“Hopefully it's pork next time,” Phil didn't know what else to say, as he watched the tall frame so relaxed on the floor like Howell belonged there. 

“Probably not, we haven't had any for months now,” The tone was dismissive but still filled with so much disappointment that Phil felt himself move closer to the cell door, not feeling threatened at all with the inmate so leisurely on the concrete floor.

“Howell, get off the floor, you'll get sick,” He tried to instruct sternly, but his tone came across more caring and it seemed to catch the other man's attention.

Or so Phil thought until the inmate laughed, “Please, I'm no officer, just call me Daniel, or Dan, whichever is good for you. I know it's a customary thing to call us 'inmate' or by our family name, but it's just us here.” Dan winked at Phil and Phil found himself swallow, uncertain as to what to do or say, “I won't tell anyone, I promise.”

Phil shook his head, “We're not supposed to acquaint ourselves with inmates,” He squared his shoulders, raised up his chin and pressed his lips together. Dan was just looking at him with a soft kind of amusement, but finally moved to sit up. He never stood, and instead crossed his legs in that familiar manner.

“Officer Lester, a true law enforcer. I like that,” There was a little bit of cheekiness in those words and Phil was unsure whether or not it was meant offensive. 

“I guess that's what puts us on the opposite sides of these bars,” Phil reached out, placing his hand against the cold metal and arched his brow when Dan laughed.

“That's very true.”

He could feel the question burn in the back of his throat, the curiosity stronger than reason and Phil couldn't explain the need to find out; he'd always scored so well in tests of mental preparedness to follow orders and to not let the emotions win over reason when faced with the most unusual situations. Yet, he wanted to know.

He _needed_ to know.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dan seemed to be genuinely confused, the tone a clear indication that their conversation had changed completely. 

“Why are you here? In the prison?” Phil could hear the heartbeat in his ears from how strong his heart was pounding against his chest, anxious. It was almost like he was breaking the most sacred rules in the universe and his heart understood faster than his brain.

He watched as Dan pushed himself up to his feet and though he knew that he had to stop him, Phil couldn't, instead watching as Dan neared the door, neared Phil. He was so close that Phil could see his lashes in detail as they fluttered closed, then open again, and the way the skin on Dan's lips was chapped. He was too close, because Phil could feel Dan's breath on his face as it ghosted over him.

“Who said that it's me who is locked away, Phil?” The voice sent a violent shiver through the entirety of Phil's body and he stepped back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his butt painfully.

“H-how do you know my name?” Phil stammered and there was panic running through his whole body when the cell door easily opened and Dan stepped out of it, nearing Phil slowly as the young officer tried to scramble away backwards on the floor. 

“Why wouldn't I know it, Phil?” Dan was close, too close, and it felt like Phil's heart was going to burst.

“Stay away,” Phil's voice faltered, and he swallowed before he could find it again, louder, “Inmate step aside immediately!”

But as he tried to grab for the baton or the radio, he found himself unable to, his arms and legs as if bound to the floor and he couldn't do anything but to trash, trying to keep Dan away as the man leaned in closer with what seemed worry on his face.

===

“Phil, can you hear me?” Dan spoke loudly, shining a light into the man's eyes the best he could as Phil kept trashing despite the bonds around his wrists and ankles holding him down to the white bed.

“Nurse, we need Lorazepam, now!” He instructed while trying to reach out and hold the man down, and it was clear that whatever was happening was taking a toll on the body, the skin reddening around the bounds painfully and the heartbeat underneath Dan's fingertips skyrocketing from what he could catch. 

“I'm holding him, go on,” He leaned himself onto the trashing man's body, grabbing a hold of his arm enough to allow for the anesthetic to be injected. 

It didn't take long for it to kick in and when it did, Dan fell back into the bedside chair heavily, wiping the sweat beads from his forehead as he looked over at the sleeping man. 

Dan frowned, the lines on his face much deeper than his age should've allowed.

“You're going to be fine,” He murmured quietly, “We'll figure a way to give you a proper life.” 

It hurt him to watch the young male when he had been brought into the hospital, hallucinations more often there than not, most causing violent reactions that had finally worn the family out and frightened them enough to seek out help.

“We'll do our best,” Dan promised before reaching out and placing the three plush toys on the bed next to the man that Dan knew Phil lovingly liked to refer to as Waletzki, Wakefield and Horsfall.


End file.
